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Catalogue of Titles
Logos Virtual Library
Oh, what a thing is man! how farre from power,|
From setled peace and rest!
He is some twentie sev’rall men at least
Each sev’rall houre.
One while he counts of heav’n, as of his treasure:
But then a thought creeps in,
And calls him coward, who for fear of sinne
Will lose a pleasure.
Now he will fight it out, and to the warres;
Now eat his bread in peace,
And snudge in quiet: now he scorns increase;
Now all day spares.
He builds a house, which quickly down must go,
As if a whirlwinde blew
And crusht the building: and it’s partly true,
His minde is so.
O what a sight were Man, if his attires
Did alter with his minde;
And like a Dolphins skinne, his clothes combin’d
With his desires!
Surely if each one saw anothers heart,
There would be no commerce,
No sale or bargain passe: all would disperse,
And live apart.
Lord, mend or rather make us: one creation
Will not suffice our turn:
Except thou make us dayly, we shall spurn
Our own salvation.